


Fade Out

by cate-lynne (catelynne)



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 01:58:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3960133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catelynne/pseuds/cate-lynne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reader has been cursed for her entire life.  But things keep getting worse and she doesn't have much time left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Joining the Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean save the reader from an angry spirit. When they discover her extensive knowledge of ancient civilizations and religions, they ask her to stay with them to help with research.

“Help!” I screamed as broken glass and other debris flew around the room.  A large chunk of glass came dangerously close to my face and I shrieked again, covering my face and head with my arms and dropping to the ground.  A second later, there was a large crash as the front door burst open, revealing two men.  They kind of looked like…the two agents I had talked to yesterday?  One, the shorter one, had a shotgun that he fired at the flickering image of a young man that had appeared five minutes ago.  His decomposing face had been open in a horrible scream, but when the shorter one aimed and pulled the trigger, he disappeared.  The taller one made his way towards me, ignoring the flying debris.  He pulled me to my feet and practically carried me to the front door.  We were almost there when I felt a sharp pain in my leg and gasped.  He was about to ask me what was wrong when the front door slammed shut and the gun was wrenched from the shorter one’s hands.

“Son of a bitch!” the shorter one cursed before running over to where I stood, supported by his partner.  “What the hell is anchoring him here?”

The tall one was about to answer when he glanced down at me and saw something that made him stop.  “(Y/N), where did you get that bracelet?”

“Joey gave it to me!” I shouted back over the screaming sound that had restarted.

In the next second, the shorter one had unclasped it from my wrist and was shoving it into the fireplace.  I gasped as it started to melt down, the tine silver linked turning into liquid metal that bubbled and leaked down into the wood.  The young man appeared for a moment, looking at me in concern and fear, before he disappeared in a flash of light.  Everything flying through the air lost momentum and dropped harmlessly to the ground.  The shorter agent was staring around the room, taking in the damage while the taller one helped me stand on my own.

“You’re hurt,” the shorter one said suddenly, pointing down at my leg.  I glanced down to see the bottom of my leg covered in red.  Blood.  A sudden feeling of lightheadedness took over and I swayed.

“Hey, it’s okay,” the taller one said, placing an arm around my waist.  “I’ve got you.”

Blackness crept up around the edges of my vision and I could feel it coming.  I was going to pass out.  The shorter one was hurrying over now as the world started to fade away.

“We gotta get her out of here, Sam.”

Suddenly I felt my weight shift as the taller one, Sam, bent down to pick me up.  He carried me out the door and down the front steps, the shorter one close behind.   Suddenly a thought occurred to me that I must have known as soon as they burst into my house, but just consciously realized.

“Not…agents…” I mumbled as the world went dark.

…

When I opened my eyes, I was in what appeared to be a motel room.  The comforter underneath me was scratchy and thin and the walls were a boring white.  When I sat up, I could see another bed just like mine a few feet away, along with a television, table, and a door that I guessed led to the bathroom.  Swinging my legs off of the bed, I stood up, only to feel a tugging in my lower leg, accompanied by a sharp pain.  Wincing, I sat back down and stuck my leg out so I could see it properly.  In a tiny neat row a few inches below the hem of my shorts was a collection of stitches.  I remembered getting the cut, but not the stitches.  I stared at them until the sound of a toilet flushing jerked me out of my reverie.  A second later, the taller of the two agents (fake-agents, I reminded myself) emerged from the bathroom.  When he saw me awake and sitting up, he smiled and made a move to walk towards me, but I shrank back against the headboard and he froze.

“I’m glad you’re finally awake,” he started but I interrupted.

“Who are you?”

“Agent Smith.  You don’t remember? We met - ”

I interrupted again.  “Cut the crap. I want to know who you really are.  You pretend to be FBI agents, break into my house while _my dead boyfriend_ is tearing the place apart and then you bring me here and put stitches in me?  _Who are you_?”

“It’s kind of hard to explain.”

I didn’t answer, just waited.  He took in the set look on my face and sighed.  Moving slowly, as if to not startle me, he sat carefully on the edge of the bed across from me.  Then he leaned forward, clasping his hands together and looking me in the eye.

“My name is Sam Winchester.  The other guy is my brother, Dean.  We…hunt monsters.”

I nodded slowly. “Like…ghosts?”

“And vampires, werewolves, and basically every other nightmare.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He looked like he thought he hadn’t heard me right.

“Okay,” I shrugged.  He looked disturbed and opened his mouth, presumably to ask me what I meant by’okay’, when the laptop on the table dinged.  Glancing at me, he stood up and walked over to open the message that had appeared on the screen.  From where I was sitting, it looked like several pictures of the same symbol that had been painted onto the walls of a house…in blood.  Sam was reading the message underneath, his brow creasing more and more as he read.  I stood up and tiptoed up behind him.  I knew that symbol, except…

“It’s upside down,” I thought, not realizing that I had said it out loud.

“What?” Sam looked over his shoulder at me.

I reached out, placing a hand on his back to steady myself.  The muscles under my hand tensed, but I ignored it.  Using one finger, I traced the symbol.

“It’s upside down.  It’s originally supposed to a symbol of life and birth in an obscure branch of a religion that died out thousands of years ago.  Inverted like this…it’s a death omen.”

Sam stared at me in surprise and I huffed.  “What?”

“Nothing,” he muttered, shaking his head and typing out what I had told him in a reply.  “Is there a counter spell or…something?”

I shook my head.  “This religion’s high priestesses would most closely resemble what I guess you would call witches.  To negate the curse you have to kill the caster of the spell.”

Sam quickly finished typing , hitting send seconds after I finished talking, before sitting back in his chair to stare at me.  I moved away, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

“What?”

“How did you - ”

Just then, the door swung open to reveal the shorter one.  Dean, I remembered.  His hands were full of beer, burgers, and…the pie that I had baked earlier?

“Sammy, give me a hand, will you? I don’t want to drop the pie.”

Sam rolled his eyes and took the burgers from his brother.  Dean glanced at me and smiled. “You’re awake! Good.”

“Yeah…That’s my pie.”

Dean froze.  “What?”

“That. Is. My. Pie.” I pointed at the dessert that he was suddenly clutching to him like it was his only child.  “I made it earlier.”

“I know.  I kind of…took it from your oven?”

“Well, you didn’t ask, so I’m not sharing.”  And I tugged the precious pie away from him.  Dean, at a loss, turned to Sam who looked highly amused.  He seemed to momentarily forgotten about my inexplicable wealth of knowledge about dead religions.

“But…”

I laughed.  “I’m kidding, Dean.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and gestured for me to sit at the table and dig in.

While we were eating, Dean and I joked around, laughing and talking.  He didn’t seem surprised that Sam had told me who they really were, though he was interested in my apparent lack of freak out.  He soon forgot about that when it was time for pie though.

“Oh my God,” he burst out, looking both pleased and concerned. “What’s in this pie? Crack?”

I laughed.  “Of course not.  I do have a secret ingredient, though.  I’m glad you like it.”

As Dean continued to praise my pie, I became painfully aware of Sam’s eyes burning a hole in the side of my face.  I knew he had questions and could tell his curiosity was about to make him explode.  Three…two...one…

“(Y/N), how did you know about that symbol?”

“What symbol?” Dean said around a mouthful of pie.

“I got a message from Garth asking if I’d ever seen a symbol that was decorating his crime scenes.  He sent pictures.”

“Oh,”  Dean swallowed.  “And how come you didn’t freak when Sammy told you the truth?”

“I already knew about the supernatural,” I shrugged.  “And I knew about the symbol because I did my thesis in college on obscure, ancient religions and I’ve continued my research outside since graduating.”

Sam and Dean looked at each other.

“Huh,” they said at the same time, making me giggle.

“Yep,” I said, pushing back from the table and standing up.  “Well, thanks for saving me from Joey’s ghost and giving me sketchy first aid, but I gotta get going.”

“What?”

“I’ve got to go home.  I have a wrecked living room to clean.”

“Oh, right,” Dean muttered, scrambling to stand up.  “I’ll drive you.”

“Awesome.  See you, Sam!” I called as I waltzed out the door.  I could feel Sam’s eyes on me all the way out.

…

After I said goodbye to Dean and went inside my house, I drooped in exhaustion.  Looking around at the scattered debris, I knew that there was no way I was going to get anything done that night.  Instead, I made my way to the kitchen, which was, mercifully, intact.  I pulled a glass from the cupboard and ran it under the tap, watching it fill with water.  I had just raised it to my lips when I felt it.  A tingling sensation spreading up my spine and throughout my arms and legs.

_Oh no…_

That was all the warning I had before I collapsed to the ground, water spilling and glass shattering.

…

“(Y/N)…(Y/N)…Can you hear me?  (Y/N)…”

When I opened my eyes, Sam and Dean were kneeling over me, their faces masks of concern.  Dean’s hands cupped my face.  I took a shaky breath.

“Dean…Sam.  What are you doing here?”

“We came to check on you on our way out of town and found you on the floor,” Dean said it almost casually, but I could hear the tension behind it.

I sat up, wincing as I did.  I tested my shoulder as I spoke. “How long have I been here?”

“Well,” Sam said, glancing at Dean.  “It’s been three days since we last saw you.”

I nodded. “I think I’m okay.  Just bruised.”

Both of the brothers backed off, but stayed close just in case.

“What happened?”

I gave Dean a tired smile.  “I dunno.  When I got home I just felt really tired all of a sudden.  I guess I passed out.”

They nodded, both looking unsure but relieved.

“So, you were coming to say goodbye?”

“Not exactly,” Sam said, sharing a look with his brother.  “We actually came to ask you to come with us.”

I blinked.  Twice.  “What?”

“I guess you could say that we’re in the market for a new old stuff expert,” Dean said.  Sam glared at him.

“What Dean is trying to say, is that we could really use having someone with your knowledge around.”  He gave me a slight smile. 

I didn’t really have to think about it.  I had known for some time that it would soon my the right time to move on.  I had just been waiting for the opportunity.  This was it.

“Okay.”

…

Two hours later, Sam and Dean were helping me carry out the last of my belongings to the Impala.  I didn’t have a lot and what I did have was mostly books.  Sam had been awestruck at my library, while Dean was more interested in my car.  It was a 1965 cherry red Pontiac Le Mans convertible.  He launched into a spiel of questions, all of which I tried to answer as best I could when he paused for air.  He nearly jumped up and down in excitement when I promised him he could drive it sometime. 

Sitting in the driver’s side with a grinning Dean next to me, I looked one last time at the house that I had grown up in.  To be honest, my childhood had been full of turmoil and confusion – I wasn’t going to miss the memories blanketing the house.  I let the engine rev to life, enjoying the delight on Dean’s face.  As I followed Sam out of town, I felt a slight twinge of guilt for lying to the brothers, but fought it off. 

What harm could it do?


	2. Not Your Average Relationship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been almost six months since the reader moved in with the Winchesters.

“Please?”

“No.”

“ _Please_?”

“No! I swear to God, Dean…”

“Just one more pie, (Y/N)!”

“Dean!” This man was ridiculous.  “I’ve already made you five!  In the past week!”

“It’s your own fault that they’re so damn good,” he smirked at me, trying to block out my view of the lore book I was reading.  I pushed him out of the way, trying not to smile.  If I smiled, he would win.  I mean, he would inevitably, but I had to have some sort of self-control.  Or dignity.

“No.” I turned away, trying not to look at the very pathetic attempt at Sam’s Puppy Eyes.  Though not at quite the same level as Sam’s, they were enough to make me give in – which Dean knew and took full advantage of.

I had been having variations of this argument with Dean for the past six months – ever since I moved in really.  We had all been a little surprised at how I just kind of…fit into their lives.  After choosing a room and getting unpacked, I had jumped right into the hunting life.  Honestly, I spent most of my time researching in the bunker or in the motel room while they did the heavy lifting.  The one time I had actually gone with Sam on a hunt, I had returned covered in blood, much to Dean’s horror.

_“Hey, how’d it – Jesus Christ, (Y/N)! What happened?!”_

_I stumbled into the motel room, Sam following close behind, his face conveying his concern._

_“Killed my first witch, Dean,” I smiled weakly.  He hurried over to me, hovering and fluttering over me like a mother hen.  His hands ghosted along my arms and legs, not wanting to touch me in case he hurt me._

_“Why are you covered in blood?” he demanded, glaring at Sam._

_“Aww, Dean, you care,” I cooed before the blood loss made my knees go limp.  Dean’s strong arms caught me, supporting me and carrying me over to the bed.  “Will you give me a hunter’s burial?”_

_“Shut up,” he snapped at me before barking orders at Sam, not looking away from the wound in my side that he had found.  A few hours later, I had woken up to find both of the boys asleep on the bed next to me, Sam sprawled across the bed behind me, leaving Me pressed up against Dean, who had both arms wrapped tightly around me._

After that, both of the boys agreed that I was strictly on research duty.  I actually knew much more about lore than either of the boys, but I was still fascinated by the immense amount of research that the Men of Letters had managed to compile.  My books were quickly added to the collection.  I spent most of my time in the library, pouring over seemingly ancient tomes and crumbling scrolls.  I would position my laptop on a table nearby, along with my phone, so that the boys could contact me easily if they needed to while on a hunt. 

When they weren’t hunting, they spent their days either training or helping me research.  But in the evenings, it was another matter altogether.  Some nights, I was in the garage with Dean, admiring the many classic cars there and defending my poor car from Dean’s drooling over it, drinking and laughing.  Other nights, I was lying across the foot of Sam’s bed as he read aloud from non-lore books, like _The Great Gatsby_ , _Wuthering Heights_ , or _The Hobbit_.  As I listened to his voice, quiet and confident, I usually caught myself drifting off.  I found myself relaxing, opening up around the boys, loving the way I felt safe and almost _normal_ around them.  I was painfully aware of how, well, aware I was of both of them.  Dean would almost absently drop a kiss on my forehead in passing while I was reading, making a warm tingling spread through my entire body.  Or Sam would reach out to brush some of my hair out of my face while talking to me, sending little bolts electricity through me.  They were both so causal about it.  And it was driving me crazy.  I found myself fighting the urge to run my fingers through Sam’s hair or snuggle up to Dean while we were watching TV.  It was getting more and more difficult not to grab one of them by the face and kiss him.  Either of them.  Both of them?  I didn’t know.  But it made spending any prolonged amount of time with either of them difficult.

Like right now, researching in the library with Dean while Sam ran out for food.

“You’re going to get fat,” I said, staring resolutely down at my book, trying to focus on the inked drawings of dragon hearts.  I couldn’t imagine a fat Dean though…he was all muscle and tan skin and charm.  Apparently the idea was ludicrous to Dean as well, who scoffed.

“As if.”  He scooted closer so that I could feel his breath on my cheek.  Damn. “Please, (Y/N)?”

I sighed, knowing I was beat, and looked up at him.  “Well…”

“Yes!” he exclaimed, pumping a fist into the air.  I rolled my eyes.  I don’t know why I even bothered trying to say no to him anymore.  If his constant pestering didn’t make me cave, my feelings for him would.  Suddenly, he pulled my book away and pulled me to my feet, ushering me into the kitchen.

“What, now?”

“Yes, now!”

“Now what?”  Sam appeared at that very moment, arms full of brown paper bags.  I escaped Dean’s grasp and hurried over to help him.  He gave me a smile as I grabbed a few of the more precariously balanced bags.  I felt something in me melt at the expression on his face.

“(Y/N) is making me pie.”

“Again?”  Sam grinned, glancing down at me.  I blushed.  “How many is that this week?”

“This will be number six,” I mumbled.  Sam laughed and threw an arm around my shoulder.

“You push over,” he teased and I stuck my tongue out at him.

“Does that mean you don’t want me to make dinner tonight?” I threatened.  While Dean begged me for pie, Sam was getting slightly addicted to my homemade pizza.  Dean and I laughed at the expression on Sam’s face.

“(Y/N) -”

“Calm down, Sammy.  I’ll make your pizza.”

With that, I herded the boys out of the kitchen so that I could get to work on pizza and pie.

…

That evening, as I got ready for bed, I reflected on the fun and cheerful dinner I had had with the boys.  Sam had scarfed down at least half of the tomato and spinach pizza I had spent hours preparing.  Later, Dean had done some sort of wiggle in his chair when I brought out the apple pie.  Sam had teased him for it, only getting a muffled “shut your mouth” in reply.  Full and relaxed, Sam and Dean had dragged me to Dean’s room to introduce me to Game of Thrones.  After a few hours of incesty Lannisters and gruesome killings, I had at the boys sitting on either side of me only to find them dozing off.  I had quietly crept from the room, careful not to wake them.

Now, in my room, I sat cross legged on my bed and tried to figure out my feelings.  There was no denying that I was physically attracted to both of the Winchesters.  They were strong, good-looking men.  But it went past that.  They were special.  When I was around Sam and Dean, I felt safe.  They were protective, caring, and accepting.  I had only experienced that once in my life – with Joey.  He had been the only one who had known my secret.  He had protected me, made me feel like everything was going to be alright.  When the car crash had happened…my whole world had blown up.  He had stuck around as a ghost to take care of me, but anyone who knew anything about the supernatural knew that the longer a ghost hung around, the more violent and confused they got.  My Joey was gone, leaving a pissed poltergeist in his place, which was when the Winchesters had found me.

Torn, I got up and padded silently back to Dean’s rom.  Both of them were still there, exactly where I had left them.  I tiptoed forward until I was at the foot of the bed, watching their peaceful faces.  I jumped a little when Dean suddenly spoke.

“You going to stand there all night?”

Hesitantly, I crawled up the bed until I was in the middle.  Sam and Dean shifted, lying down, carful to keep a few inches of space between themselves and me.  I was facing Dean, staring at his relaxed face.  Suddenly, his green eyes cracked open, catching me staring.  He chuckled, wrapping an arm around my waist to hold me against his chest.  I felt Sam roll closer so that he was wrapped around me from behind.

“What…?”  I wasn’t sure what this was.  I mean, I liked it, but still.  I could feel it – the shift in my relationship with the brothers, the feeling that a line was being crossed that couldn’t be uncrossed.  “Dean -”

“Shh,” Dean whispered, tightening his arms around me briefly before letting his eyes slip shut again.

“Relax,” Sam said, his low voice right next to my ear. “It’s all going to be okay.”

And I believed him.  I believed him when, the next day, instead of pressing a kiss to my forehead, Dean’s lips came into contact with my own, startling me.  And when Sam didn’t just brush my hair off of my face, but continued to play with it.  And when I curled up against Dean, listening to his heartbeat as he watched Dr. Sexy.  When I got to run my hands through Sam’s hair as I pulled him down for a kiss.  I was falling in love with them, I knew, and the time to tell them everything, the truth, was now.  But I couldn’t do it.


	3. Old Habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean start to notice (Y/N) starting to act strange.

As the new moon drew closer, I started feeling antsy.  I only had a few more days to prepare, but I had no idea what I was going to do.  Should I risk staying in the bunker?  That wouldn’t work – the could easily pick the lock on my room or any other door in the bunker.  Or would it be wiser to tell the boys I had a case or something so that I could spend the time in a motel?  Not going to happen – they were never going to let me hunt after what had happened last time.  What about…just telling them the truth?  I had kept this secret for as long as I could remember, only ever telling Joey…and he had died only one week later.  I was not going to take that risk.  So…sneaking out or locking myself away…?  I couldnot figure out which would cause the least damage.

These thoughts and more swirled around my head, making it hard for me to concentrate.  I often found myself in a room that I had no idea how I had gotten there…or how to get back.  Or I would grab the wrong book  - sometimes reading them upside down.  I bumped into every single piece of furniture that I crossed paths with.  I did my best to hide my confusion, faint bruises, and growing panic.  And while I thought I was staying relatively calm, I happened to overhear a conversation between the boys that made it all too clear that they knew something was up.

“You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed, Dean,” Sam whispered incredulously.  Oh, Sammy.  So perceptive and concerned. 

“Maybe she’s just…doing her female thing, you know?”  I had to roll my eyes.  Really, Dean? 

“Um, no.  She’s like a freaking zombie, man.”  That’s my boy.  Sam knows what’s up, people.  Except not specifically what was up with me.  Just in a general way.

There was silence for a moment and I held my breath.  What would Dean’s response be?

“You’re right.  But what are we supposed to do?”  Woah, I had never heard Dean say that Sam was right.  They must have been really worried.

“I don’t know.”  Sam sounded lost and I had to fight the urge to run around the corner and attack him with hugs.

It was at that point that I tiptoed away, trying not to think about the concern in their voices or the way I just wanted to hug them both for caring so much.  It made one thing very clear:  I was going to have to lie and sneak out.  It was the only possible solution.  If I told them, they would never let me out of their sight again.  And as much as I loved the boys, I could not handle them hovering any more than they already did.

…

Three days later, I was hauling a bag up to the dull gray door of a motel room, a good few hundred miles from the boys.  My phone was turned off and my laptop was stashed at the bottom of my bag.  I had just pulled it out and started the timer when I felt it.  Just like I had six months ago when Sam and Dean first found me.  A tingling spreading throughout my body, taking everything with it, leaving me numb.  In a matter of seconds, I was stumbling over to the bed as best as I could just before I passed out.

…

I woke up three and a half days later, clicking the ‘stop’ on the timer.  Squinting so that I could see the little numbers on the screen, I had to gasp.  I hadn’t been out for so long before.  I had started to suspect when I was out for three days six months ago, but now I was certain – it was increasing again.  It hadn’t done that in ten years.  Why now?  Speaking of now…the boys must be starting to worry about me.

Groping around, I found my phone and switched it on, chugging the water bottle I had put on the nightstand three days ago.  When my phone finally came to life, I had ten messages from Sam and Dean.  I hurried to reply, hoping they hadn’t already sent out a search party.  I got a message back from Dean within seconds and I could tell he was angry.

_Come home.  Now._

I sagged against the pillows behind me.  I hated it when he was angry with me.  The weight of feeling like I had disappointed Dean was too much.  What could I say to make it better?  The truth?  Definitely not.  If he knew the truth about me, he would only be more angry that I had snuck out for this.  Sam would understand…I hoped. He’d use the Puppy Eyes to coerce me into staying with them next time.  Next time?  That wouldn’t be for another six months…I hoped.

Maybe…I should tell the brothers.   I had enough time between incidences that I could ease them into it, gradually showing them the truth of who I was and what had happened to me.  They would look at me with horror and pity (I could picture it so clearly in my head) and wrap their arms around me protectively, comfortingly, whispering all the while that they would do whatever they could to help me.  And all I had to do was tell the truth.  Was I ready for that?  What it time?

Not if I could help it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that this one is so short! The next one will be extra long to make up for it, okay?  
> Also, what do you guys think is going on here? I really want to know.


	4. Tattletale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait! I'll try to be better...

Three weeks, twenty pies, and hours spent apologizing and making up excuses later, things were finally returning to normal in the bunker.  Sam and Dean seemed to move forward, but I couldn’t.  The guilt was eating away at me.  I could barely eat.  I lay awake for hours between Sam and Dean.  My focus was shot, often leaving me reading and rereading paragraphs of lore several times.  If Sam and Dean noticed anything, they didn’t say a word.  Until I started walking into things again.

It was a late start for me, as usual.  I couldn’t handle the long hours spent researching and hours spent lying awake, only to still try to wake up at the same time as the boys.  I was quickly developing bags under my eyes.  I lost weight.  The final straw happened when I nearly fell down the stairs from exhaustion.  Thankfully, Sam had been walking beside me, keeping a close eye on my progress.  His strong arm came flying out of nowhere to wrap around my waist, stopping my flailing descent in mid-air.

“Oh…um, thanks, Sam,” I muttered, trying to right myself and free myself from his grasp.  He held on tighter, scooping both arms around me so that I couldn’t escape. “Sam-”

“Please,” he whispered.  The pleading and pained tone in his voice made me freeze.  “Just talk to me.  Please?  I know that’s something’s up.  You don’t eat, you don’t sleep, and you barely look at me anymore.  Or Dean.  Did we do something?  We can-”

“Stop,” I blurted out.  “You didn’t do anything wrong, Sam.  Neither did Dean.  There’s just…stuff  - me stuff – that I’m sorting through.”

“Maybe if you tell me, I can help…”

“No.  Nobody can help me, Sammy.”  Oops.  The despair, the hopelessness of my reality was there, was so evident in my voice.  He could hear it.

“Bullshit,” he growled, straightening up and carrying me with him as he strode down the stairs and towards the library.

“Stop, Sam.  Let me down!” I struggled in his arms, but they were hard as rocks, keeping me pressed against his chest.  I flailed my arms and legs, hoping to loosen his grip or catch him by surprise. “Let GO!”

We had entered the library.  At my shout, Dean looked up from the book he was reading (I couldn’t tell if it was lore or not) and raised his eyebrows.

“Really, Sam?”

“Call Cas,” Sam ordered, setting me down in a chair and standing behind me to make sure I didn’t run.  I felt all the blood drain from my face when he said that.  I knew who Cas was, the brothers had spoken of him many times.  And angel, especially a powerful one like Castiel, would know immediately what I was.  He would tell the boys.  No.  No, no, no!  I wasn’t ready for this.  I lurched forward, trying to run, but Sam’s hands were on my shoulders in a flash, pinning me into place.  Dimly, I could hear Dean saying some kind-of-blasphemous prayer to Castiel, who appeared moments later with a disapproving look on his face.  He looked like the boys had described him, dressed kind of like a…tax accountant?

There was a kind of roaring in my ears.  He was going to tell them.  They would look at me like I was some kind of freak.  He was going to ruin everything.  My life with the Winchesters, my dear Sam and Dean, was over.  Over over, all of it, over…

As soon as Castiel’s eyes locked on me, his face went slack in shock.  A second later, there was a sound like flapping wings and we were gone.

…

As soon as we landed, I lurched away from Castiel.  Spinning to keep him in sight, I couldn’t help the stream of words that came bursting out of me.

“Please, Castiel, don’t tell them.  Please.  I know I should have told them but there isn’t really a good way to explain this…thing and I can’t let them get hurt.”  Castiel said nothing, just stared at me with wide, confused eyes.  “That’s what this curse is, right?  I can’t tell anyone or they die, I know it.  It’s what happened to Joey.  He died because of me.  I swear I won’t tell anyone else, I swear.  I know it’s my fault but I didn’t know.  Oh my God, what’s…?  Not now, no.  No - ”

And just like that, I was gone again.

…

When I woke up, I was in my bed back at the bunker. I automatically searched for the clock on my nightstand to try to figure out how long I had been out.  I couldn’t remember…

Sam’s intervention.  Castiel.  The curse.  I flopped back into my pillows, wishing that my bed would eat me.

“That is impossible.  And I don’t think Sam and Dean would be very happy.”

I screamed before realizing it was Castiel.  A few seconds later, Sam and Dean busted into the room – or tried to.  I could hear the thud of their bodies colliding with the sturdy wood.

“What the hell?!”

“(Y/N)!  Are you alright?  (Y/N)!”

“Damn it, Cas! Let us in!”

I was frozen, sitting straight up in bed with the covers clenched around me like some wimpy girl in a horror movie, wide eyes fixed on Castiel.  He stood up from the desk chair that had been pulled out for him and advanced towards me.  Not knowing what he would do to me, I screamed again.  Sam and Dean renewed their efforts to get inside, shouting outside the door. 

Castiel ignored all of this and reached a hand out, eyes solemn and full of sympathy.  I scrambled to get away but the once “protective” sheets had become a restraint. 

“No,” I whimpered.  “Please, don’t…”

Too late.  His pointer and middle finger connected with my forehead and a blue light sparked in his eyes.  My eyes rolled back and my mouth opened in a silent scream.  The last thing I saw was Sam and Dean bursting into the room, weapons at the ready.  They froze when they saw us.

_Help me._

And then I was sucked into a vortex, a swirling rainbow of every single memory of the curse and the time and consequences it had cost me.  The mark on my foot that I had been born with, the only physical manifestation of the spellwork that had been laced into my very DNA. Joey, Sam, Dean.  JoeySamDeanJoeySamDeanJoeySamDean –

“Cas!” I distantly heard Dean shout.   “Stop!  You’re hurting her!”

There were hands on my shoulders, shaking me and I felt Cas’ fingers disappear from my burning skin.  Someone caught me as I slumped, slowly and carefully lowering me down to my pillows.  All I could do was try to breathe and focus on the slight tingle in my back.  No.  No.  I wasn’t doing that again.  I waited, breathing heavily, and the tingle went away.  That was when I became aware of the shouting.

“What’s wrong with you?!” Dean’s voice was louder than I had ever heard it before.

“I had to be sure she is the one.  If I hadn’t-”

“She would be a mess right now!”

It was at that moment that I realized I was curled up in Sam’s arms, shaking.  I touched a hand to my face and my fingers came away wet with tears.

“She would be worse off though when I-”

“You’re not going anywhere near her again!” Sam broke in.

“Sam.  Dean.  She is the Cursed One.  She falls with the new moon and…”

As he continued to tell the boys about the only secret I had ever really needed to keep, I drifted off to sleep, feeling the fatigue creep in and snatch my bones into an embrace that I wasn’t sure I would wake up from. 


	5. Story Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really didn't like the original version I had posted of this chapter so I redid it.

I was so close to consciousness, it was maddening.  It was like being held just under the surface of a pool.  I could faintly here my surroundings, Sam and Dean yelling, Castiel trying to talk over them, but I couldn’t understand what was happening.  I could feel someone’s burning arms wrapped around me, holding me protectively.

Sam.  Sam was holding me.

As soon as I realized this, my head broke the surface.  Just a little, but enough for me to speak.

“Help,” I rasped, before descending back into darkness.

…

When I next awoke, Sam and Dean were there, sitting across from each other on either side of my bed.  Sam’s head hung forward, chin resting on his chest, looking like he was struggling through some kind of nightmare.  On my other side, Dean had his head pillowed on his folded arms that rested on the edge of my bed.  I shifted, trying to see my clock, and both boys jumped up, wild eyed looks on their faces and hair standing on end.  When they looked down and saw me awake, they sat back down, rubbing their faces in identical, exhausted movements.

“(Y/N),” Dean sighed.

I cleared my throat to speak, but Sam beat me to it.

“You should have told us.”

“I know and I wanted to.  I just…”

“Cas told us that you thought talking about the curse would kill us.  Did you…you told that guy Joey, didn’t you?”  Dean was watching my face closely, looking for something.

I felt my breathing hitch as I nodded.  “A week before he died.  He tried to stay with me – refused his reaper- so he could look after me during my…naps.  It went well until he started to think everyone was a threat.”

“He got over-protective,” Sam murmured, taking my hand.  I nodded, squeezing his finger gently.

“When I tried to tell him to back off, he got upset.  Said I didn’t know what was best for me and that he was only trying to help.  He wouldn’t listen.  And that’s when you guys showed up.”

Dean sighed.  “Look, (Y/N).  I’m not thrilled that you kept this from us, but I understand why you did.”

“We both do,” Sam interjected.

Dean glanced at him before continuing. “We do have a couple of questions, though.”

“Of course.  I’ll answer what I can.”

“Have you always had the curse?” Sam wanted to know.

“Ever since I was born.  I had this birthmark on my foot when I was born,” I said, pulling one bare foot out from under the covers to show them the mark that looked ridiculously like a full moon.  “And my parents were professors in history and religion.  They realized something was up so they started researching.  Luckily, they found some legends that mentioned a Moon Marked woman that slept for days on end with the new moon.  So when the new moon came, they were ready.”

“Every new moon?”

“Every new moon,” I confirmed.  “It doesn’t hurt.  I just get a kind of tingly feeling in my back warning me that I’m about to pass out.”

“What did the legend say?” Sam asked.

“Back in the days when the moon and sun ruled from earth, the moon became jealous that the sun had an affair with a human.  So she placed a sleeping curse on the child, vowing that there would always be one Moon Marked for all of history, all of them descendants of the sun.”

“Wow,” Sam said.  “So you’re literally a descendant of the sun.”

“No wonder you’re so hot,” Dean quipped, winking.  I laughed, which was the point, before continuing my explanation.

“Yes.  And the mark changed with the phases of the moon, giving me a little bit of warning.  Or at least, it did.”

“What do you mean?”

“The…naptimes have been more frequent, and longer, lately.  I’m not sure what’s going on.  There’s no record in lore of a Moon Marked woman not following the moon’s phases.”

“Cas called you the Cursed One.  Is he talking about being Moon Marked or is there something else?”

“As far as I know, it’s just the Moon Marked thing.  I’d like to ask him though, see what his thoughts are about all of this.”

“Alright then,” Sam said, scooping me up. “Let’s go find an angel.”

…

“(Y/N),” Castiel said in his rough voice as we entered the library.

“Castiel,” I returned cautiously.  I couldn’t help but remember the way he had kept Sam and Dean away from me to shift through my memories.  And it had hurt, physically.  He had brought up some memories that I didn’t even know I had.

“I apologize.  I should have asked for permission first,” he rumbled.

“Damn straight,” Dean growled before sitting down, grabbing a glass of whiskey and motioning for Sam to set me in his lap.  He did and I immediately snuggled into Dean’s warmth, so happy I no longer had to keep a secret from him and Sam.  I could actually enjoy being held without wanting to puke from the guilty feeling in my stomach.

“It’s okay,” I mumbled.

“I cannot take away the curse.”

Sam, Dean and I all looked at him, shocked.  I hadn’t even considered that a possibility.  I mean, maybe a little, in the back of my mind, but…

“Being a Cursed One is in your very DNA.  To take it away would destroy you.”

I nodded, resting my head against Dean’s shoulder.  I had thought something like that would be the case, since it was so based on genetics.

“Do you know why it’s been happening more frequently?” I asked, playing with the fingers of Dean’s free hand.

“No,” he frowned.  “But we will find out.”


	6. The End

Now that Sam and Dean knew about my curse, life got so much easier.  I was happier than ever, really.  I could enjoy cuddling with Sam while watching Game of Thrones, trying not to whisper spoilers in his ear.  I had a blast learning about cars and drinking beer with Dean.  I savored every touch, every hug, every kiss, and every heated glance they sent in my direction. 

Of course, every minute that we could spare was spent researching the Moon Marked and their history.  It was discouraging, but the fact of the matter was that the Men of Letters didn’t have hardly any information about them.  It looked like that was one of the projects they had been about to start right before Abaddon wiped them out.

“But one of them had to present the Moon Marked as a potential project, right?”  Sam was frustrated with the lack of answers.  It was like the Men of Letters and their library had personally failed him.

“Right,” Dean and I agreed.

“So there should be a file for that somewhere that could have some information in it.”

“Okay, so we find the file and find out what the Men of Letters knew and how they were planning on learning more.  Sound like…a…plan…” My eyes went unfocused as I felt a familiar tingle.  “Um, guys…”

The last thing I saw was Dean lunging towards me to catch me before my world went black.

…

When I opened my eyes, I was starving.  Looking around, I could see that I was in Sam’s room.  There were several books on the bedside table and a half-drunk mug of coffee on the dresser.  There was a considerable amount of clothes missing from the open closet and the duffel bag he always kept on the floor by the door was gone as well.  When I sat up, a note sitting on top of the pile of books caught my eye.

_(Y/N)-_

_We found the file.  There wasn’t a lot of information in there, but what there was didn’t look good._

_There was also a summoning ritual for the spirit of the Moon.  We’ve gone to get answers from her, no matter what it takes._

_I hope you don’t wake up before we get back, but if you do, you might want to eat something.  You’ve been out for two weeks._

_Be back soon.  Promise._

_-Sam_

Two weeks?  I had been asleep for two weeks?!  Wow.  No wonder I was so hungry.  I got up, only to immediately have to sit down again.  Woah, head rush.  Take it slow.  Much more carefully, I proceeded to the kitchen.  I made a sandwich and stole a piece of Dean’s pie.  I was just finishing when I heard the door open and the boys walked in.  I met them in the library, looking back and forth between their downcast faces.

“Sam? Dean? What’s wrong?”

For a moment, they both looked happy just to see me awake.   They both came forward and crushed me in their arms.

“Hey, you,” Sam said, putting me down.

“You smell like pie,” Dean commented.

I laughed, before remembering how dejected they had looked when they came in.

“I got your note, Sam.  Did it work? Did you talk to her?”

The boys looked at each other for a moment before turning back to me.

“Let us put our stuff down real quick.  Then we can talk,” Dean murmured, not quite meeting my eyes.

I followed the boys to their rooms, watching nervously as they put their stuff away.  It was only a few minutes later that I followed them back to the library, but it felt like hours.  We sat at the table, Dean across from me and Sam.

“So we talked to the spirit of the moon,” Dean started.

“She was actually kind of nice,” Sam input.

“Yeah, not at all the wrathful-laying-of-a-curse type at all.” Dean shook his head.  “When we told her who we were and why we wanted to speak to her, she seemed genuinely sorry.”

“Sorry? Why?”

“Well, she said she regrets the curse in the first place, but…”

“She put a loophole in the curse,” Sam muttered, looking unhappy.

“A loophole?”

“The curse can end.”

“What? How?”

They both sighed, and I started to worry that I was going to have to sacrifice someone or something like that.

“The bearer of the curse…”  Dean started, but clenched his jaw and had to look away.

“The bearer of the curse has to have no children by the first new moon after their twenty-fifth birthday.”

“And then?  What happens to them?”

“They go to sleep.” Sam looked away this time.

“What?”

“They never wake up, (Y/N),” Dean sighed.

I gasped.

“But it’s okay, (Y/N), we have some time.  When’s you’re birthday?  That way we know our deadline,” Sam was trying to stay positive, I could tell, but if I had been out for the past two weeks…

“What’s today’s date?” I whispered, trying not to scream.

“The seventeenth, why?”

“Today is my birthday,” I choked out.  “My twenty-fifth birthday.”

The blood drained from both Sam and Dean’s faces.  I pulled out my phone with shaky hands and checked the lunar calendar.

“And tomorrow is the new moon.

…

I didn’t know how it happened, but we all ended up on Dean’s bed, wrapping our arms around each other, not willing to let any space between our bodies.  Dean’s arms overlapped Sam’s and his face was buried in my neck.  Sam’s lips where on my hair.  I tried not to notice the shaking of my own body or the occasion shudders coming from the Winchesters.  We stayed like that for the rest of the day and throughout the next.  My last day. There was nowhere I would rather be.

“I love you both,” I whispered, when I knew it was time.

“We love you too,” Sam assured me, pulling on a lock of my hair for the last time.

“Always will,” Dean promised, lifting his head to place a final, gentle kiss on my lips.  He put his head on my chest, listening to my heartbeat.

I gave in to the darkness as it took over my vision, finally at peace with my destiny.

…

The Winchesters stayed where they were until her heart stopped beating completely.  It took a few hours, slowing down to the point where it gave one weak beat per minute, but finally, at midnight, it stopped.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think, kittens!


End file.
